Sehnsucht [POEM]

The Moon

XVIII

╭⋟────────────────╮

                ✦✧✦✧

                     Hm, any guess as to who or what

                     'The World' would be?

╰────────────────⋞╯

╭          Bit of a Warning          ╮

Heavy Themes

╰                                                ╯

╭─── ｡(＾･ᆺ･＾)｡ ───╮

Sehnsucht

╰────────────╯

ıllı awanqi ıllı

Artist

#PoemsByKyrie

── =^._.^= ∫ ──

When the moon is full and shining bright,

that's when fantasies come to life,

for the moon plays with our hearts and minds

with symphony of illusions,

I am weak against these phantasms,

the grimace of people that sighs—

I could see them as clear as the sky

with nary a cloud that's in sight,

Am I but a mere fool, after all,

to be tricked by the lunate rock

shimmering above the empty void

that promises no such hope for me?

Am I just some joke to Artemis

who looms o'er the bleak night sky?

Or am I but Aphrodite's source

for dramatic entertainment?

I could've been labelled as the fool,

but I am no such wanderer;

my heart is stagnant just like my hope

when the tower fell to the ground,

But then, when I saw your sea green eyes,

I knew it was not a mirage,

happiness and longing, I have felt,

the smile on your lips, I ached for,

Your laughter was music to my ears

(no offense to dear Apollo)

but soon enough, it will end, be gone,

and I would be the reason why,

I yearned for your touch, to hold me close,

to never let me go again,

but soon my dreams were shattered like glass,

your promise to me was broken,

Ah, if I had listened to your words,

maybe the outcome would differ?

What if I listened to your reasons,

might we be together as one?

But time flows in a one-way river;

it can never go back again,

so I might as well like this present,

might as well live throughout this pain,

But as the moon played her harpsichord,

that's when I felt the illusions,

those eyes of yours that were once vibrant

held no sunshine, but stormy skies,

Ah, was I mistaken, after all?

That your eyes held no warmth nor love?

Or was this some kind of lunar trick

that tried to sway my love for you?

O clement, o merciful shadows,

Where do I go from here and now?

Should I return for never afters,

or go and pursue a new idol?

Ah, love is not lofty, isn't it?

It's but a game set by the doves,

a cruel game of shattering the

souls that people kept in boxes,

O benevolent, o holy ghosts,

was I under some illusion?

Maybe love was never in his eyes,

at the very least, towards me,

And I'm okay with it—

I'm fine with letting him go.

── =^._.^= ∫ ──

ıllı Ian Espinosa ] ıllı

BG Photograph